


He Returns

by a_nonny_moose



Series: Egotober 2017 [10]
Category: Markiplier Egos
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-16
Updated: 2017-10-16
Packaged: 2019-01-18 08:51:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,336
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12384882
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/a_nonny_moose/pseuds/a_nonny_moose
Summary: Well, look who's back.





	He Returns

“Do you want to explain yourself before or after I kill you?”  


[[MORE]]

“After, thanks.” Anti smiled broadly, glitching in place. “I’d very much like to see how long it takes for ya to manage to kill me with that peashooter of yers.”  


Dark gritted his teeth, lining up his shot, finger on the trigger. “Get out.”

“I don’t think so.” Anti wiggled his eyebrows, laughing, and disappeared back into the computer screen.   


Dark dropped his gun back to his side, running a hand through his hair. “Google.”

An affirming beep from behind him, all four Googles at attention. 

“I want the mainframe locked down. Nothing gets in or out of the office’s circuits. Corner him in.”  


A pause, then a series of whirring nods. “Done.”

Dark stalked out of the room, scratching the back of his head with the barrel of his gun. 

“And you lecture _me_ about gun safety,” Wilford scoffed, leaning against the hallway wall, spinning his own revolver around his finger.   


Dark didn’t respond, aura brushing past Wilford with the dangerous distraction of a hunter stalking more important prey. 

Wilford frowned, walking after him. “What happened?” he demanded, following Dark right into his office, circling his desk as he sat down. “Why did all the systems go down?”

Dark looked up, frustrated, but a tiny glimmer behind his eyes. Respect, treating Wilford as an equal. Even at the worst of times-- especially at the worst of times-- Dark could look at Wilford as one of the oldest, most powerful figments. As a partner in protecting the office, even if he was... unpredictable. 

Wilford tapped his gun, shiny chrome, against the surface of Dark’s desk. “Well?”

Dark set his gun down on the table with a clatter, matte black against the reflective surface. He sighed, almost unguarded. “Anti.”

Wilford’s eyebrows rose into his hair. “In our systems?”

“He’s glitching through the computers.”  


Wilford huffed, pushing himself back. “Well, what’re you _doing_  about it?”

Dark scowled, seeing Wilford’s shoulders tense, antagonistic. “The Googles are locking him down.”

“And you think they can do it?” Baiting.  


Dark’s head snapped up. “What is _that_  supposed to mean?”

Wilford shrugged, turning back around to look at him, a shadow crossing his face. “You’ve never been one to leave things up to others, dependable as they might be.” A challenge. 

Dark considered a response, scathing, but bit it back. “Shut up.”

“Tsk, tsk. Going soft, Darky?”

“Shut _up_ , Will.”  


“Dare I say, _trusting_?”  


“I said--” Dark was on his feet, fingers around the handle of his gun, “-- _shut up_.”  


“Or what?” Wilford eyed him up and down, too far to grab his own gun, but fingers twitching all the same. Bold, unafraid, confident in his own power. 

Even point-blank, Dark knew that he couldn’t kill him if he tried. And by God, he’d tried. “I’m trying to hold this office together,” he growled, putting the gun down, straightening his suit. “The last thing I need is a _glitch_  in our systems. The last thing I need,” he said, sitting, looking calmly up at Wilford, a silvery smile, “is a two-bit reporter overstepping his place.”

Wilford stepped forward, hands on the desk, level with Dark’s stupid, smarmy smile. “Don’t act like you’re _above_ me,” he said, teeth gritted. A finger in Dark’s face. “You know as well as I do that our places are _side_ - _by-side_.”

Dark twisted his mouth into a sneer. Wilford was right, of course, but there was no way he could ever know that. “You keep the office _hidden_ ,” Dark spat, glaring. “ _I_  keep it _safe_.”

Wilford started to sputter a response, but he was cut off by the door slamming open. 

“Google.”  


“Dark.” A beep. “Wilford. We have him.”  


Dark rose, still staring down Wilford, neither of them backing down, neither one of them winning. “Let’s go, then.” Turning on his heel, he swept from the room. 

Wilford took the time to stick gum on the bottom of Dark’s chair before following, muttering to himself. Just because he wasn’t as _reserved_ as Dark was didn’t mean that he wasn’t as important. It’d be nice to feel important sometime. This was a familiar flavor of bitterness. 

* * *

The Googles had disconnected a single monitor from the mainframe. The screen glitched violently, static and knives and Anti’s grinning face. As Google_G ushered Dark, then Wilford in, a mad giggle echoed around the room. 

Oliver frowned, looking at the monitor with no speakers attached. 

The monitor’s glass cracked, and Google_B narrowed his eyes. He’d have to fix that. 

Anti stuck an arm through the screen with the sound of shattering glass, still laughing, and Dark straightened his suit. This was showtime, after a fashion.

“Heeeeeere’s Anti!” Anti poked his head through the hole he’d made, a maniac glint in his eye. “Heya, Darky.”  


“Glitch,” Dark sneered, folding his arms. “How nice to see you.”  


“Hi,” Wilford interjected, stepping forward, regarding Anti with a kind of interest.   


Anti’s eyes widened, and he glitched himself fully out of the monitor. He stood in the middle of the floor, in the center of a circle formed by the Googles, Wilford, and Dark. “What an audience, eh?” He grinned, eyes flickering, and a knife appeared in his hand.

“This doesn’t have to get messy,” Dark said, smooth. The obvious leader in the room. “Get out, and we won’t kill you.”  


“I’d like to see ya try.” Anti took a step forward, teeth glinting.   


Wilford flipped out his knife, the _click-click_  the only sound besides Anti’s static. “I’d like to try.”

Dark saw the danger immediately. “Wilford, stop.”

Anti saw his opportunity immediately. “Give ‘im a shot, I dare ya.”

“Absolutely not.” Dark half-turned to Wilford, trying to catch his eye, a warning. “Wilford, stop or _get out_.”  


Wilford opened his mouth to respond, but not before Anti giggled, calling all attention back to him. “Why not? Somethin’ tells me yer just _scared_.”

He was baiting. Dark narrowed his eyes, passing over the remark. “Anti, you have until the count of three to get out of our office.”

“ _Scared_? Why would anyone be scared of _you_?” Wilford scoffed, hair-trigger, ready to spring.   


“Not o' me.”  


“One.”  


“Then who?”  


Anti grinned, smile crinkling his eyes. “He’s scared that ya can do what he _can’t_ , Wilfy. That maybe yer a match fer me, an’ more than a match fer _him_.” He pointed his knife towards Dark, attention wholly fixed on Wilford. 

“...Two,” Dark warned, the slightest hesitation, eyes flicking between Anti and Wilford.   


Wilford paused, the gears practically visible, turning in his brain. Anti giggled, neck twitching. The Googles were stiff, silent, watching. Waiting. 

“Don’t want to disappoint _Daddy Dark_  over there,” Anti whispered.  


“Three.”  


Wilford took a step forward, and Dark flinched, imperceptible. Wilford bared his teeth, knuckles white against the handle of his knife. He straightened up, liquid, graceful restraint. “Get out, Anti.”

Dark stepped next to him, a tense kind of pride in his shoulders. “You heard him, _glitch_. We’re not puppets for you to pull the strings.”

As one,  the Googles crossed their arms over their chests. It was a strange sense of unity that went around the circle, despite it all, and Anti seemed to shrink in the face of it. 

But only for a moment. 

Anti threw his head back and laughed, high, insane, his form splintering as they looked on. “Yer all so _weak_ ,” he laughed, and Google_B was the first to understand, stiffening. 

“Dark, Wilford,” he said, eyes flashing. “Run.”  


“Wh--”  


Anti giggled, and it echoed, once, twice, three times. Dark blinked, and there were four Antis in the room. Green, blue, red, yellow. 

“Wilford, run.”  


There was a flash, and crackling static, and one by one, the Antis disappeared. One by one, the Googles went stiff, joints crackling, eyes full of white noise. 

One by one, they smiled, heads tilting identically. Wilford, pulling Dark with him, backed out of the room. 

Four voices in unison drifted after them, laughing, glitching. 

“T̫̺͖͖̞h͈̲̫̟e̘̣͡r̷͉̠̝e̻͎ ͔̗̩̝̬̫̯͠a͎̰r͕͙͈̞̙̘̼e̡̤̮̲̯̗̼ ̠n̛̝̜̞ͅo͕̲̳̫͟ s̗̜̣͙͟t̡͚̫̣̼r̪̫͙͚i̧̭̫͕̰n̦̝g̪s̹̰ ̶̮̙̳ͅo̢͎͉̘n͍ m̝̖͕̪͔̞ȩ̦͈̲̖.”  



End file.
